The Art of Rekindling
by blueroseulan
Summary: Because affection is but a habit. And the heart can simply forget. But Kaoru is willing to give everything another shot.
1. Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimers Apply: I dont own RK

The Art of Rekindling

Chapter 1

It took everyone by surprise.

"A magnitude nine earthquake struck Japan, followed by a tsunami and triggered what could be said to be the worst nuclear disaster in the century."

The news anchor, in all his neck-tied seriousness, poker faced and not even a hint of panic in his monotone nor his teleprompter trained eyes. Someone from behind the camera, flailing his arms, signaling `_CUE COMMERCIAL BREAK!` _Cue the sound of commercial music. Cue VTR of the all-too perfect American family, having the all-too perfect picnic under a flurry of pink blossoms, backdropped by the gentle shadow of Kinkakuji, the Golden pavilion, the house of the gods… Cue the slogan. "There are things that money can`t buy… for everything else…"

Kaoru would have probably grimaced at the irony of it—yes, unfortunately, there are some things money cant buy- like lives of the earthquake victims, or nuclear containment, or both. She probably would have put a hand over her face and cried a little, just because of the magnitude of it all. . Oh Japan, why must you suffer so? Why, when you've touched so many lives with your delicate balance of elegant old and brazen modern? (_Why, when you've touched my life with green tea ice cream and eternally hot anime boys?) _Why when you've given the world so much? (_My scholarships, my probable dream jobs, the Japan life I've always wanted) _Oh Japan, Nippon, the Land of the Rising Sun. (_Oh Japan, Nippon, the land of 100 yen shops)_ Why?(_Why?)_

She probably would have thought.

But the human mind has formed a proximal habit of choosing to focus on mundane things instead of the relevant, of allowing ourselves to listen to that tiny selfish voice that insisted we focus on what to make for dinner—Chinese chopsuey with lemon sauce?—(_But you know I don't eat anything green)_—or pork afritada, with golden potatoes and a spoonful of peas—(_YES!YES!)-_ as the nation clambers aboard the ride to third world poverty. It was not indifference; perhaps selfishness? (_YES! YES!_)

Whatever it was, it would be enough to soften the next lines of the anchor's script (CUE SFX!)into but a gentle, distant hum as Kaoru's gaze remained transfixed on the white glowing screen of her laptop.

_I'm flying back home in two days.. I'd like to see you._

_Can._

_ We _

_ Meet?_

Yes, the disaster took everyone by surprise.

And this one, yes, it took her by surprise too.

I intended that Kaoru be the only character mentioned. It`s up to you guys to guess or imagine who the guy might be. But, please dont dwell on the guessing game. I`m hoping the reviews would be more about the writing style than the real representation of the characters. XD

please, please review.

blue~


	2. Chapter 2

Standard Disclaimers Apply: I dont own RK

Chapter 2

Arundhati Roy, in her glorious works, once said that adoration was but just a habit. The heart adores, the heart is left to absence, the heart forgets. Kaoru had soaked herself in these lines just as a preacher soaks himself in bible verse upon bible verse. She had memorized and put it to heart, recited it day after day as she drifted from one emotion, emotion, emotion, to another: Hurting one moment, hopeful the next, jaded all of a sudden. It had been the biggest break up of the century, at least for her. And to say that they had smoothly coasted through the rituals of saying goodbye would be a total understatement. The silence that she had stretched between their distance -or was it the distance that stretched between their silence?- was echoed by his.

And now he was coming home.

Actually, she had no reason to see him anymore. He had made his point perfectly clear long, long ago, the night her fairytale had run its course. He had already chosen. And evidently, she hadn't even been his choice to begin with.

She reminded herself of this as she tentatively brushed away strands of hair locked in a ferocious battle against tangled curls and split ends. _After everything we`ve been through together, he still had the nerve to tell me he cant get over her? HER? HER?_

She reminded herself of this as she thoughtfully picked and weeded through her entire wardrobe trying to find the perfect dress to wear. _You look good in anything_. He used to say this to her. So much like the stereotypical Jude Law he was, a perfect gentleman—a perfect breaker of hearts_._ And her naïve little heart, pretty and young and eager to feel pleased, had skipped its beat. Even during the night when she had realized their happy little bubble had burst, even with her hysterics, her blood red eyes, the rage that had rendered the shaking of her body uncontrollable…

Him: You know, you still look good. You always look good.

_Ahh… but just good,love? Never beautiful enough for you my tensai? I`m only good, good, good… not even good, good and finally ahhh… somehow beautiful beloved, no?_

And yet with each passing, minuscule second that brought her closer to him, it only drove home the point that after all these hours, weeks and months of carefully laboring to bring her sanity (forget him), emotions (forget him) and control (forget him) all back together , clearly the task she had accomplished was but superficial. The moment she had read his email, she had felt the uncomfortable bubble of rekindled emotions rise to her chest. It had terrified her; that the concrete wall she had painstakingly built could just as easily be swept away by a tsunami of memories woven in nostalgia. But she, in her all true valiant self, had tried to keep it at bay, fighting it down like swallowing gurgling nausea and yellow vomit that one knows will deliberately spill at the right moment, at the right time- but it had rebelled into becoming so much more, concrete, nameable,

_unbearable,_

_._—excitement, anticipation—

And today as she made her way to this climactic turn of events, she dreaded for what she knew would be more than possible—for the emotions to spill over and finally not just excitement and anticipation…

The fatalistic word that defined all boundaries.

Expectations.

Reviews! Reviews! Reviewers get free cookies!


	3. Chapter 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply: Me not own RK uggawugalooga.

Chapter 3

She boarded the first trip enroute his hometown.

_This is ridiculous_. She thought, a quarter with irritation, another with resignation; but when further pressed to admit, there was also a part of her that felt pleased—giddy. She was playing the role of the heroine quite well. Venturing out in a foreign land alone, nervous, hopeful, in pursuit of another (possible? Impossible.) shot of rekindling what they had.

MorningNews TV. Because the city never sleeps. We deliver, hot and fresh. From the small Panasonic TV on board flashed the world's hottest headlines. Screen shots of the earthquake and the tsunami in Japan flitted across the screen, cut-to-cutting to interviews with victims and survivors and the occasional astronaut-looking guys clad in protective gear. It was a sight too depressing, but the people on board couldn't have cared less. There were baggage and pasalubong—gifts from the capital to be manually audited, ham and egg sandwiches to be chomped on—and for people like Kaoru, more important things to daydream about.

If the screen shots of thirty foot waves crashing against building looked so much like scenes straight out from a post- apocalyptic movie, Kaoru pondered over the thought that their first meeting had also seemed to be straight out from the cheesiest of all stereotypically cheesy romantic movie. She, still caught right in the middle between being a tourist and being a student in Japan; between attending the nightly nomikai at Kawaramachi or studying for that Japanese test. He, still caught right in the middle of being twenty and thirty; between being a man and _a man_. They met, were introduced, and for reasons only people who knew loneliness could explain, had become inseparable. She found it amazing really, how two minds could be so perfectly aligned; move so perfectly in sync, like two satellites predestined to orbit around the other.

They were the international Chico and DelaMar and the tamed down versions of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, sans the guns and the fierce artillery, but still with the passion and even more so of the glorious adventures. Would they still be able to talk about these adventures now? Would he still remember, with clarity that only comes with fond affection, how they had sat for hours in trains and she had taught him the difference between _TOORIH and TORRIH; _and when he had announced that their train was actually traveling under the Japan Sea, how she had, like a little girl, bounced up and down on her seat and starting singing: _Under the Sea, under the sea… darling it`s better, down where it`s wetter take it from me! __広島__. _Hiroshima. How she had glared at him the whole day for leaving her behind the store that specialized on music boxes (Canon on D, My Heart Will Go On, Tonari no Tottoro) only to be coaxed back to civility with sushi and manjus and kakigoori? 長崎. Nagasaki. Of eat-all-you-can kaiten zushi, kappa zushi and maki zushi. Maguro, Tuna, Ika. All for \100 per plate! 金沢。Kanazawa. And how, soaked in the lusty, orange Osaka air, intoxicated highly with attraction, with the unmistakable smell of oily ramen and the salt of the sea drowning the senses , atop the giant HEP ferris wheel, he had gone against the clichés of all clichés, had once again proven that theirs was the cheesiest of all romances….

… and had tenderly kissed her.

Under the Osaka Sun. 大阪. Osaka.

The heart forgets and affection could easily slip through one's fingers as easily as it had been acquired. It happened all the time—to bitter couples separated by years of grudges and stolen land titles; to lovers with undying love held against time and distance; and it also happened to those who were caught struggling between that thin, thin line between fondness and love—them.

He had of course, tried to explain it to her then. It was, what he felt for her, a love that was not really love kind of love, like an almost there, but barely even there, there kind of emotion. It didn't matter. She didn't understand. After all, fairytales didn't offer much insight into this kind of not love kind of love. Not when the prince gets to kiss the cinders girl, and definitely not when they end the stories with _and they lived happily ever after_ anyway.

But affection, as she'd soon realize, could be learned, and like a newly formed obsession, could be quite addictive. It betrayed the fondness in his gaze, reprimanding one moment, laughing the next. It conjured a tenderness in his touch when his nimble digits skimmed past an aching breast, begging to be touched and darkening in crinkled geometry. It tasted real on his lips as it lingered on her cheek in an innocent kiss...

The affection was a safety net for them both, buffering their perpetual slides to loneliness and insecurities, providing a dark shadow to the obvious gap that stretched between them. But it also made it possible for him to dodge her persistent questions (so, really, _how_ do you feel about me?) and to stop the both of them (and this she found rather unfortunate) from surging on any farther than where they already were. When there should have been explanations and reassurance, there had just been a flurry of clothes, so hurriedly peeled off from the other, and a tangle of limbs and skin. Salty, sweet, tangy like wild strappleberry; When he could have just told her the truth, his stand on where _she_ stood, there had just been more midnight biking adventures in the back alleys of Gion, the hunting for the brief, flash of a perfectly white face, silken kimono and the pitter patter of geta; the singing (screaming) of _**HAYYM SO**__**OREE-I CAANT BE**__**E **__**PUUR**__**FH**__E__**CCCT!**_ at 3 am alongside the banks of Kamo river.

He didn't love her. She loved him.

But! But!

He was fond of her. She was fond of him.

It was enough.

I found this chapter rather sweet. Kindly leave your reviews.


	4. Chapter 4

Standard Disclaimers Apply. I dont own RK.

Chapter 4

The anticipation had proven to be a steady build up, first bubbling from the inside of her stomach, continuing its steady ascent as the hours rolled on and her bus window transitioned from reflecting the hullabaloo that only occurred in cities, to the lush green rice paddies with the occasional splash of moving grey. It continued to expand warmly in her chest, and finally when the bus stopped and she hurriedly moved towards the front rear, she could barely contain it and was almost sick of excitement.

_He would still remember_. When there was once uncertainty, she now felt it with a staggering conviction. Surely, the old Chico and Delamar, the Mr. and Mrss Jones could be, would be, resurrected back to life. Surely, they'd once again fall comfortably back into each other's presence, talking about anything and everything, complaining about the world's woes just like before; Hers: broken bike brakes that led to her crashing against walls, the Canadian dude next door who kept everyone awake with his in room concerto at 3 in the morning, that weird green thingy starting to spawn on the sides of her makeshift ref threatening to spill over her precious, precious strawberries. His: rowdy, screaming kids who won't listen to teacher, delayed salaries, late visa applications, the vanishing of that on-sale pea coat that he had instantly fallen in love with…

_Yes, everything would be back to where it was._ She confidently thought as her feet led her to the local park where he had arranged for them to meet. She'd only have to smile that bright, radiant trademark smile of hers that according to him was the perfect personification of sun beams, and could take away any man's sorry worries in life and he only had to crack his silly punch line-less jokes, for the both of them to win each other`s affections back.

She was —

And suddenly, she halted in mid step, mid thought.

She had wondered how their meeting, a first after several months of separation, and still another of silence, would be. Would she turn Shakespearean once again and fling her arms around him, (Oh Romeo! My Romeo!) just as she had laughingly cajoled him before? Would it be epically Hollywood-ic? A brief flash of silence, and suddenly, their lips would be hard on pressed with the other, his hands roughly grasping her hair her arm around his neck. (She I missed you.. He: ….gaddammit Kaoru, I missed you too! (kiss,kiss,kiss.) (cue inset winter sonata instrumental).

But as her gaze locked briefly with the man sitting on the weathered park bench, it dawned on Kaoru, in a brief surge of panic and realization, that the situation called for nothing near her imagined version of events. So instead, she walked over, and sat herself beside him.

"Hey." A monosyllable. A representation of several months` worth of repressed thoughts, emotions.

"Hey."

In between their measured space of personal park bench seat stood an empty can of cokeⓇ. A cylindrical tin of carbonated sugar. A representation of 1684.9 miles of distance, and the gaping, intangible separation that came with it.

"Genki?" Formalities—at least someone had to start them right? Surely a formulaic round up of hello and how do- you- does would be far better than awkward silence was it not?

"Yep, same old. Same old." Suddenly, she felt like someone trapped in a tube of warm, viscid sap. It was becoming painfully that the CokeⓇ in can between them also suggested a thick brick wall.

He: "I—I brought you something." He handed over parcel, that as would soon be revealed, held inside a pack of Sneakers chocolate, an oversized Kyoto shirt, and the generic, prescribed souvenir from Japan repatriates—green tea. Kaoru: Thanks. Although she knew he knew she hated sneakers. Although she knew he knew that the shirt would be oversized. Although she knew he knew that she hated being given something as common as green tea.

"So, how`s school?" In fairness, it was an innocent question, meant perhaps to only start conversations going. But Kaoru suddenly felt all too conscious of herself, of him, and the decade that separated their lifetime. Suddenly, it all became painfully clear that she was twenty, and he was thirty.

Oh the professors were bad, their exams worst. There were papers to write, powerpoints to be finished, baby thesis to be implanted in one's mind. Her own voice sounded strange to her, foreign, thick and only a shrug away from being cross.

His own laugh sounded just as controlled, as self conscious as she was and suddenly, Kaoru felt the all too proverbial stone sink deeper in her stomach: there would be no dramatic love confessions, or passionate lip locks, or even glimpses of her pre empted happily ever after.

Regrettably, there would only be untraced ellipses and discomfiting silence—a far cry from the companionable stillness they had shared in the exact same scenario, only in an abandoned train station, under the Kyoto sky, in what seemed to be a different lifetime.

"_Hamachi_ that doggie on the window?" Once she told him that sushi jokes were the answers to all the problems of the world. "_Kani_ feel the love tonight?"

He smiled, shook his head and laughed. She bit her lip, released a whiz of breath and laughed. For a split fraction of a heartbeat, she saw a familiar warmth settle in the light of his eyes. Oh yes,yes, sushi jokes made the world feel alright again.

He was still laughing. "I haven't heard that for awhile. And that smile, I haven't seen that in such a long time either. I missed that." He ruffled her hair, and Kaoru could only hope that his fingers remembered the affection that was once interlaced between each long nimble digit when he used to trace lazy patterns on her skin.

"I'm sorry you had to come all the way here. I cant come to Manila…my schedule`s been pretty tight lately. I've just been really busy with the preparations…"

A pause.

Preparations? She asked, what preparations?

There was a sudden cloud on his face, and then, his whole façade, which had been momentarily broken down only several heart beats ago, was again already up.

A bucket of ice cold water. A hard hand chop delivered on the neck. A fatal drop from the weeping oceans below. Sinking deeper, deeper. _Darling its better, down where its wetter, take it from me._

And then Kaoru knew,_ knew_, that she had very much willingly played the part of the perfect Hollywood fall back girl, the desperate, always the best-friend-never-the girlfriend, and in what was now forthcoming, the always-the-bride`s maid-never-the-bride role.

"Oh. **OH. **You-you`re getting married? I didn't know." Tell me its not true. Tell me its not true that you've really stood on your choice. Tell me its not true that she'd do a better job in listening to your corny punch line-less jokes, that she'd be more willing to listen to your rants about late visas and silly pea coats. Tell me it's not true that under the Osaka sun, you'd rather kiss her.

"Yes I am. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I was afraid you'd freak out."

Freak out. Her? Oh no. Not after everything they have shared. Not after the love-that-was-not-really-love kind of love. Not after those midnight back alley excursions. Not after those crazy 3 A.M. out of tune notes of I`m sorry I cant be perfect. Not after that dream like ferris wheel kiss. Freak out? Her? Of course not.

The smile on her lips felt like melting wax. "Well, it`s about time you did her right. You both must be so happy." She suddenly hated herself, him, but mostly herself; for convincing herself that he'd be rendered useless and unhappy without her, that his affection for her would be eternal, and that after this meeting, they could go back to being the world's happiest couple, this time with the love-that-was-a-real-kind of love. How prettily naïve. She and her pretty naïve little heart.

The smile was slipping off, hot tears were beginning to burn coolly and Kaoru knew this was her cue to exit, to salvage the last of her remaining pride. After all, there was no point in prolonging this, _this._ His affection and hers—the only thing that eclipsed and filled the vital cavity in their lacking rela_tio_shi_, had long since gotten lost amidst broken internet connections, short holiday email greetings and disintegrating old photos.

She made a move to leave. The reports cannot wait. The powerpoints, really, _really_ have to be finished. The baby thesis must be meditated on a.s.a.p.

~~~~  
>A little long. But heart breaking, noh?<p>

r.e.v.i.e.w!


	5. Chapter 5

Standard disclaimers apply: . rk.

unfortunately. ,

Chapter 5

On board the bus to Manila, the little black box with the screen flashed video fillets of tsunami victims and survivors. There were those who had lost their homes, had missing relatives and both. One mistook another for his mother and had bitterly wept upon the realization that she wasn't. A dog was found buried alive under a riveted tiled roof, kids held their graduation at the local city gym; diploma-less, toga-less and with a future as shaky and as unsure as to when the next aftershocks may strike. A man had been miraculously reunited with his wife.

Kaoru watched the black box with the screen.

And then.

She cried.

For everything that had been lost.

Very short. But im hoping the impact made up for the length. whachu think? review!


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